Death Came With Friendly Care
by Ichiko Wind Gryphon
Summary: To most, he was a heartless figure.  Indifferent.  Cruel.  But to Elphaba, he was the one who gave her hope.  One-Shot


**Hello, all. Some of you may recognize this, others may not. I had planned on turning this into a full-lengthed story, but my inspiration for writing it had withered and dried out, and now, I will simply leave this as a very touching one-shot between Death and Elphaba. I apologize to those who were looking forward to the rest of this story, but to be honest I rushed into it without even knowing where I was going with it. I didn't have a very good sense of the plot or what was going to happen, and decided to end the story because of my poor planning. **

**Now, I invite you to please sit back, and enjoy the story.**

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><p>Elphaba found herself curled up in a corner of the cold, dark room of the castle, arms folded around her body and knees pulled up to her chest. Her sleeves were wet with her tears and her black hair hung in disarray around her shoulders.<p>

He was dead. Fiyero was dead. He saved her life and she couldn't even do the same for him. She couldn't save him.

The room around her resembled the same carnage she had witnessed at Munchkinland, the same carnage the twister had invoked upon their land. Tables were overturned, books strewn across the floor, pages ripped to pieces in fury, shattered items littered the ground. In her fury and grief Elphaba had ripped apart the room. And now, exhausted, she curled herself against the wall of the castle, the cold stone piercing through her flimsy dress.

She wanted to die. She had destroyed so many lives. She was the cause of so much suffering in pain. So many lives lost, destroyed, cursed . . . all because of her. She wanted to do good, she wanted to help, she wanted to make the world a better place, damn it all! But look what happened! Fiyero, the only one to ever love her, was dead. Her father, her sister, both dead. Dr. Dillamond, her beloved teacher, was now nothing more than a mindless animal. Boq, one of the few companions she had at school was now a machine. All because of her.

She was nothing more than a curse, a plague upon this wretched earth. Yes. To die would be a mercy, not just for herself, but for everyone of Oz. They would celebrate her death. No one would shed a single tear for her.

Because no one cared about a wicked witch.

Pushing herself to her feet, knees buckling weakly beneath her, she scanned the floor for some sort of weapon. There. A large shard of glass. Its edges were razor-sharp, and cut her fingers as she grabbed it. Redblood flowed, contrasting against her emerald skin and the crystal of the glass. Yes. It was perfect. Nice and quick now. Straight through the heart.

She closed her eyes, pulling the shard to arm's length. Inhale. Exhale.

Soon, her pain would end.

Just before she plunged the glass straight into her chest, a hand clamped around her wrist. Elphaba, shocked, opened her eyes, wondering who had grabbed her.

A skeletal face, enveloped in a black hood, stared back at her.

"What are you doing?" the figure asked her sadly.

Elphaba gasped, and felt the glass slip from her fingers. The man-person, skeleton, whatever it was-released her, and she stumbled backwards, allowing her to get a good look at whoever he- _it_- was. It was clothed from head to foot in a black robe, trimmed with silver. Its hands, faintly visible beneath the large flowing sleeves, were also nothing more than bleach- white bones. A large scythe was strapped around the figure's back, and Elphaba slowly realized this figure, this apparition, was Death.

Death was here to claim her.

"Why do you want to take your own life?" Death asked again, bending over to pick up the shard of glass. It then placed the shard on a shelf safely out of Elphaba's reach, and turned back to her, taking one step closer to her.

Elphaba found her voice, however weak and feeble it was. "You're . . . not here to kill me?"

Death looked at her with his empty eye sockets. "I only take souls that are ready to move on. And seeing as though you _clearly _aren't dead-"

"You stopped me," Elphaba interrupted suddenly.

He- Elphaba assumed from the tenor in its voice Death was masculine- shrugged. "I don't want you to die. At least, not like this."

This confused Elphaba. She didn't think Death, if he ever really physically existed, would be so . . . so _reluctant_. "Why not?"

"Because you have no reason to end your own life. Do you not understand what a precious gift a life is?" Death asked. He then seated himself atop an overturned chair, appearing nearly weightless. His black robes fluttered in a non-existent wind.

Elphaba clenched her fists and felt tears ready to spill again. "Some gift my life is, then!" she said furiously. "I ruined so many lives! My sister, my father, my mother, Boq, Fiyero- just to name a few! Wherever I go I end up hurting someone! I'm nothing but a curse! I don't deserve to live! I'll just end up destroying more and more lives!" Tears freely flowed down her cheeks. "I don't deserve to live . . ." She buried her face in her hands and wept.

Only a second later, she felt arms wrap around her thin frame. Death- _Death!- _was embracing her. "You don't deserve to take your own life, either," he whispered in her ear. "Please. Don't do this to yourself."

"I don't understand," she said. The shock of being embraced by no other than Death himself silenced her tears. "Aren't . . . aren't you supposed to kill me?"

Death let out a soft chuckle. "I won't take a life if it can be helped," he said, releasing her. "You're not the first person I have saved."

"I don't want to be saved, don't you understand?" Elphaba said. "Why can't you let me die?"

"Because I think you're being too hard on yourself," Death said. "I know you are capable of doing good. And I want you to have that chance. Do good. And you will be rewarded in the afterlife when your spirit flies off to Heaven."

"There's no way in Hell I am going to Heaven. Not after everything I have done," Elphaba said bitterly.

"I wouldn't be too sure about that," Death said craftily. "You see, I don't take _every _soul that passes on to the afterlife. I only take the ones that are in balance."

Elphaba glanced up at him, silently demanding an explanation. Death folded his skeleton hands together thoughtfully.

"It's like this. Good deeds make the soul light, indicating it will rise to Heaven. Sins, on the other hand, burden the soul, dragging it downwards to Hell. If a person were to have an even mix of good and bad deeds on their soul, their soul is in equilibrium, and it cannot rise or fall on its own. Which is where I come in. I take the soul and carefully measure it, and determine where the soul passes on to. All others naturally rise or fall."

"So if you're appearing to me, that means my soul is balanced with good and bad?" Elphaba clarified.

"Exactly. And as you know, suicide is a sin. And with your life in such a delicate balance already, do you really want to take the chance? For all you know, you can rise to Heaven when you die," Death said.

"Why do you care so much about my soul? It's none of your concern where I go when I die," Elphaba said, a little more harshly than she intended. Death recoiled, and Elphaba could almost see a hurt expression on his bony face. "I never imagined Death would be so compassionate, is all," she added, hoping it would lessen the sharpness to her previous statement.

He laughed quietly. "Of course I'm compassionate. After all, I'm only human." He lifted his hands to his hood, and pulled it away from his face. The skeleton face faded like a smokey illusion, and a normal, fully human face was there in its place. The new face was square with a strong jaw, kind dark eyes and shaggy brown hair that fell loosely to his eyebrows. He couldn't have been much older than Elphaba herself. He gave her a warm smile. Although not as handsome as Fiyero by any means, he was easy to look at, his features indicating friendliness and, indeed, compassion.

Elphaba had never thought that Death was an actual figure, much less a _human _figure, and this new appearance- this friendly, warm, gentle one- was definitely a surprise. She didn't know what to say.

"You say you're human . . . how did you become Death, then?" she asked.

He smiled sadly, and his eyes glazed over as he recalled a distant memory. "It's quite ironic, actually," he said. "I was much like yourself. I wanted to die. End my suffering and misery. I was literally no one. No one would miss me. No one would care I was gone. I had nothing to call my own. I was poor, no family, no food in the pantry and an eviction notice on the pathetic shack I called a home. I was _no one_, and I had no one. So I put a gun to my head, thinking how much of a relief it would be to die. Death came, and I was frightened when I saw him. In my panic I . . . well, I killed Death."

Elphaba's eyes widened. "You killed Death? You can do that?"

"Apparently," he said with a small smile. "And turns out if you kill Death, you take his place. And here I am," he added, spreading his hands wide.

"So if I killed you, I would be Death," Elphaba said, more to herself than to her strange visitor.

Death gave her a cautious glance and made sure the glass shard was far from her reach. He even reached around and grabbed his scythe. "Technically," he said in a very careful voice.

"I'm not going to kill you; I would never want to be Death," Elphaba assured him. He relaxed, but still kept a hand close to the scythe handle. And like her ghostly companion, Elphaba too allowed her muscles to rest. She found it strangely easy to talk to him. "Do you like being Death?"

"In a way," he admitted. "I know for most I'm nothing but a heartless figure that rips souls from people's bodies, but the terminally ill see me as a sign of hope. Because when I come, I come to end their pain. And I enjoy that feeling, knowing that some will no longer suffer and I helped end their misery. I am relief. I am peace."

Elphaba was moved. She had never expected such a thing, to talk with Death and discover just how kind and compassionate he was. "It does sound rewarding."

"But there are the others that I do not enjoy as much," he said grimly. "Mainly the war victims and those who are brutally murdered. I recall a specific incident clearly. A small boy, armed with a grenade, ran up to a soldier in an act of suicide. The soldier shot the boy, and the grenade ripped the boy's body to pieces. It was terrible."

"I'm sorry," she said. Of course Death's job was not always easy.

"But what is also rewarding is knowing I can save those like you, and change their lives around for the better," he smiled.

"You don't give up on anyone, do you?"

"I don't," he nodded. "I believe in everyone. Especially you."

Elphaba felt herself slide to the ground, sitting on the stone floor. She was talking with the physical embodiment of death. He was a figure almost everyone feared, who most ran from in terror. She had always thought death was heartless, cruel, indifferent. And to see him right now, for all he was, a caring, compassionate being . . . it was so surreal Elphaba had to be sure she was dreaming. _And he believed in her._ He believed she was capable of doing good.

Who ever would have thought Death could give her hope?

She was struck with a sudden realization. "Wait . . . did you happen to take the lives of two people recently? One was my sister, and the other . . ." she stopped, her voice cracking slightly.

Death nodded solemnly. "Yes, the poor girl crushed by the house. I took her soul."

"And . . . ?"

"Her soul was heavy with sin . . . but there was also a large part of her soul that was good as well." He smiled. "Rest assured. Your sister has gone on to Heaven."

As relieved as Elphaba was to hear this, she couldn't repress her rising dread. "The second soul I wish to ask about . . . he was a man I loved very much. His name is Fiyero Tiggular. I must know, did he die?"

Death brought a bony hand to his chin and his dark eyes turned upward in thought. "I do not remember taking a soul by that name. If I didn't take it, it could mean it has moved on by itself."

Elphaba lowered her head. She should have expected as much.

"But . . . maybe he is not dead," Death added hopefully.

Elphaba scoffed. "There is no way my spell saved him," she said angrily.

"How are you so sure?" Death inquired with a smile. "Did you see him die with your own eyes?"

Elphaba clenched her hands tightly. "No . . . I didn't . . ."

He placed a hand on her shoulder. "I don't want to give you false hope, but there is a chance your beloved is still alive. Don't give up."

"Even if he is alive, what do I do now? The whole world wants me dead. I don't know what to do," Elphaba said.

"Then move on. No one is keeping you here in Oz. There are worlds beyond your own. But whatever happens, never give up on yourself," Death said comfortingly.

Elphaba brushed a tear from her eye. "Thank you. I can't thank you enough. No one . . . has ever believed in me."

Death pulled her to her feet, and embraced her once again. "Live your life. Do good. And never give up."

She closed her eyes. "I will. I promise."

Death pulled away from her, and gave her one last true, genuine smile before pulling his hood back around his head, the skull quickly replacing his human face. "I hope we do not meet anytime soon," he added with a chuckle. He began to faze through the stone walls, vanishing like smoke.

"Wait," Elphaba said. Death paused. "You must have a name."

"Zane. My name is Zane," he said warmly.

"Until we meet again, Zane," Elphaba said.

"Until then, Elphaba," he saluted, and vanished.

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><p><em>"Death came with friendly care;<br>The opening bud to heaven conveyed,  
>And bade it blossom there."<em>


End file.
